Monday, June 30, 2008
On Magazine Subscriptions and Being a Grown Up
I just sent out $70 worth of checks to pay for magazine subscriptions. GQ, Vanity Fair, and Details, come hither. Whenever I subscribe to one, I get special deals in the mail to subscribe to others at half the cover price with promises of special free prizes because I'm such a valued customer. Case in point: Details is sending me a free messenger bag with my paid subscription. Now, I need another bag like I need a whop upside the head. But it's free, and I wanted the magazine subscription anyway. My momma didn't raise no fool.
When I was a tubby little thing growing up in the double wide back in Mississippi, I always promised myself that when I was a grown up, I'd subscribe to magazines. There's just something so adult about having a magazine subscription (or three, in my case). It communicates that you are cultured, aware, understand what's going on in the world. That you keep up with the Joneses, so to speak. Now, I know my subscriptions don't communicate that I'm the most politically and globally informed citizen, but dammit, I know what width ties are in season for the fall. And canvas slip ons are making a come back, y'all. I get gourmet recipes I'll never try, the latest celebrity gossip, and weird stories about sting rays that jump in fishing boats and puncture men's hearts in one fell swoop. It's glorious.
When I was a little boy, I wanted magazine subscriptions and wheat bread. My momma wouldn't get me either. But, boy howdy, you can bet now that I'm grown, I've got them in spades.
What were some promises your child self made to your adult self?